So, You're Alive After All
by WriterGirl1198
Summary: What if Irene Adler had not met with Moriarty that fateful day? What if she had been whisked away by a guardian angel to later meet with Sherlock again? Many things might have been different.


**So, You're Alive After All**

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**Author's Note**

**The character Rhavaniel is profiled on my pinterest account, SonyaRavenne. If you have trouble finding my account, please let me know! I hope you enjoy my Sherlock Holmes one shot!**

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Irene Adler, professional thief, was on her way to meet with her current employer. But this woman was no regular criminal. Oh no, she was also the girl with whom the Sherlock Holmes was in love. At the moment however, Irene had good reason to fear for her life. Her current employer was a ruthless, evil man by the name of James Moriarty, and she knew that somehow she had displeased him. She had agreed to meet with him in a public place- her favorite restaurant- but she knew even that was no longer a guarantee of safety, especially to one such as her.

As Irene made her way to the tea room, she was stopped by the voice of a young girl.

"I really wouldn't meet with him if I were you."

Irene looked around cautiously, wondering who on earth would say such a thing to her. "Who said that?"

"I did," the voice replied, and Irene turned to see a girl sitting on a large wooden crate.

The girl looked to be about fifteen or sixteen years old, and she appeared very strange. For one thing, she was wearing a dress that- while very beautiful- was most certainly not from the current time period. Another thing was that she openly carried weapons on her person, a long knife in a leather sheath attached to her belt, a quiver of arrows strapped over her shoulders, and a recurve bow unstrung in the quiver. Her waist-length curly black hair flowed unchecked down her back and over her shoulders, while her green eyes practically glowed in the sunlight.

"Who are you?" Irene asked in curiosity, wondering why this girl looked so different.

"I am called Rhavaniel," the girl replied. "I am your guardian angel. And I say again, you do not want to meet with Moriarty again, on this day or any other."

"He's going to kill me isn't he?" Irene said in a resigned tone of voice.

"Not if I can help it," Rhavaniel said fiercely. "I am tasked to keep you safe, for your purpose in this world has not yet been fulfilled." The angel took the woman by the hand and said, "Irene, please, you must come with me. You are no longer safe in London!"

"Where will you take me?" Irene asked as she followed Rhavaniel quite willingly.

"There is a small village in the north of Scotland which is not well-known," the angel replied. "My brethren guard the village jealously, for my father has tasked them with its protection. You will come to no harm there."

Rhavaniel took Irene to the village in Scotland, and they stayed there for several months. Word eventually reached them from England: James Moriarty was dead, along with Sherlock Holmes. When Irene heard of Sherlock's death, she was devastated and inconsolable. Rhavaniel knew that something had to be done to help Irene, or her charge would fall deathly ill in her grief.

The angel convinced the woman to return with her to London, now that there was no danger left. Irene agreed, her spirits low, and together they traveled to the great city. Rhavaniel knew within her that not all hope was lost for Irene's love, and so they determined to make for the residence of one Doctor John Watson. If anyone would know the truth of the matter regarding Sherlock Holmes, it would be the good doctor. On their way there, however, Rhavaniel sensed that all was not well.

"We are being followed," she breathed quietly to Irene.

The two headed inconspicuously into a side alley, and Rhavaniel noted that their pursuer followed suit. With sudden strength, Rhavaniel pushed Irene behind her, out of the way of any violence. As she whirled around, her cloak and skirt billowing around her, she drew her long knife- the only weapon she had brought this time- from her belt. Her knife at the ready, she lunged swiftly at their pursuer, who jumped backwards in his surprise. He didn't seem to expect such a fierce opponent in a seemingly sixteen-year-old girl, and Rhavaniel used that to her advantage. She backed him into a corner with skillful feints of her knife, holding him there until she could be assured he was no threat to her charge.

"Who are you, and why are you following us?" the angel growled threateningly, her eyes glowing in anticipation of a potential fight as she raised her knife menacingly. "Speak!"

"I do believe your dear Irene may be able to answer both of your questions," the stranger replied calmly, one eyebrow raised.

Rhavaniel half-turned to look at Irene, who had turned a deathly pale upon hearing the man speak. She walked towards the angel and the man, and Rhavaniel backed off, sheathing her knife beneath her cloak. Irene ripped a fake beard and moustache off their pursuer, revealing a man with dark hair who appeared to be in his late thirties.

"So, you're alive after all," the man said. In response, Irene slapped him- hard.

"I think that I should be the one saying that to you after you fell- no, no, launched yourself- from a balcony into a roiling cauldron of water, which happened to be hundreds of feet beneath you!" she all but shouted at him. As the distraught woman spoke, Rhavaniel sensed her life and passion returning. Instinctively, the angel knew that this man was Sherlock Holmes.

"Actually, I have every right to say that to you, my dear," Holmes said in a deadly-calm voice. "Moriarty claimed that you were dead by his hand, and I can assure you, he took every possible opportunity to gloat over me. He enjoyed reminding me that I could not save you from him in time. He even gave me this as his proof."

The famous detective reached into his pocket as he spoke, pulling out a lace handkerchief. It was embroidered with Irene's initials and looked just like her other handkerchiefs except for one detail- the one which Holmes held was stained with blood. It was at that point Irene realized that Sherlock had thought her to be dead longer than she had worried for him.

"I never met with him that day, you know," Irene said quietly. "Rhavaniel stopped me and took me to safety. I have been in Scotland since that very day."

Holmes stepped forward and embraced Irene, holding her close to him. Then of course, the moment was ruined by sense and practicality.

"You should go to Dr. Watson, Sherlock Holmes," Rhavaniel said. "He grieves for you deeply, for you are his brother at heart."

"You must come with us, Rhavaniel," Irene suggested, but the angel shook her head with a smile, her black curls falling over her luminescent green eyes.

"My task is completed, Irene. I have kept you safe and alive, and you have now been returned to the capable hands of Sherlock Holmes. I must now return to my home."

"Will I see you again?" Irene asked hopefully.

Rhavaniel hugged Irene and said, "You never know; just keep a weather-eye out, alright?"

With that, Rhavaniel stepped back and began to glow with a blinding light, growing brighter and brighter until she finally disappeared. Holmes stared at the spot where she had just been in utter amazement.

"My dear Irene, please do explain," he said, too started to even theorize.

Irene chuckled softly and looped her arm through his. "I will tell you later. Come now, we must do as Rhavaniel said and tell Watson of your survival."

Sherlock Holmes whimpered. The great detective had very few fears, which included Irene in a suspiciously good mood and all horses in general. There was one, however, which topped the list, and that was the wrath of Doctor John Watson.

**The End.**


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